


LOTR Drabble Pile 4: Darkfic and/or Year of Troubles

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Dark, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Multi, The Shire, Year of Troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Battle of Bywater is won.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_ **LOTR Drabble Pile 4: Darkfic and/or Year of Troubles** _

Please read Chapter One!

These are the dark fics, the Tentacle Fic, the Ringfics, the Orcs and Nazgul POVs, and the Year of Troubles drabbles. I didn't mark this whole pile non-con, but the ~~very last one~~ second to last one is non-con (and was never posted to my journal).

The _last_ one is a "What if Sauron got the Ring back?" AU.


	2. Baby, Wasn't I Good To You? (drabble)

_ **Baby, Wasn't I Good To You? (drabble)** _

Over at [](http://community.livejournal.com/lotr100/profile)[**lotr100**](http://community.livejournal.com/lotr100/) I suggested a couple of ideas for challenges, and they picked one, the "Letters from the Dead" challenge.

If I wrote this properly you'll be able to tell who this is from and whom it's addressed to. If I didn't, well, I'll just have to keep trying.

**Baby, Wasn't I Good To You?**

Baby, wasn't I good to you? I would've given you the world, if you'd only listened to my voice. Didn't I take you on an adventure, show you things you never dreamed you'd see? And how do you treat me, now that I'm gone? You badmouth me to anyone who'll listen, you say I ruined your life. That Smeagol, he wasn't much to look at, but at least he loved me and wanted me with him at the last. But he was never my type; you were, my precious, all short, dark, and fair. Baby, wasn't I good to you?


	3. Interspecies Drabble of Wrongness (Frodo/Surprise, Frodo/Sam)

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
mortified  
---|---  
  
_ **Interspecies Drabble of Wrongness (Frodo/Surprise, Frodo/Sam)** _

OMG, I cannot belive I wrote this. For [](http://capra-maritimus.livejournal.com/profile)[**capra_maritimus**](http://capra-maritimus.livejournal.com/), and two others who shall remain unidentified at present.

Um. PG-rated for slash and wrongness. Tucked behind a cut for the same reason.

No, it's not bloody likely, is it?

_Before the doors of Moria, a sudden thrashing in the water. Tentacles whipping and clutching, not slimy-cold but blood-hot. Wriggling into his clothes, lifting him high into the air, stroking his chest and arms and legs; twining round him securely, stroking his lips, laying wet tingling kisses all over him with suction cups----_

Frodo jerked out of sleep. Beside him, Sam snored gently, tender lips parted. Frodo sighed, reproaching himself, but reached over. "Mmph, sir?" Sam asked muzzily, and Frodo answered his question with a kiss. "I'm afraid I can't sleep," he explained, and Sam smiled, opening his arms.


	4. Omnivorous; drabble, gen, PG for ick

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
macabre  
---|---  
  
_ **Omnivorous; drabble, gen, PG for ick** _

I seem to be drabbling a lot lately. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/)'s "Gluttony" challenge. You know who the viewpoint character is, right?

**Omnivorous**

They all taste so good.

Elves were the first food of hatchling days; they wail to the stars, are bony but sweet. Men are loud and meaty, and were more plentiful before He took their city. A few dwarves, even, were had in past days, hairy and tough but flavorful. Orcs are sour and rank, but their corruption tempts the appetite, and they are better than starving, anything is better than starving. And now, the skinny one has brought these tender morsels, led them unaware and helpless on paths of no returning. Oh, they are going to taste so good.


	5. Worse Than Lazy

_ **Worse Than Lazy, PG, gen drabble** _

For the "Sloth" challenge over at [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/).

Title: Worse Than Lazy  
Word Count: 100  
Rating: PG for implications of violence.  
Characters/Work: RotK, specifically "The Scouring of the Shire"  
Adult Content/Pairing: Up to the reader's imagination/ None  
Disclaimer: A brief benign avocational fiction.

'Twas bad enough when the Ruffians did no work, or so we thought back then. Pimple styled himself the Chief, and they styled themselves his Men, taking in his name such goods as they'd not worked for, bullying and clouting any who stood in their way. By Afteryule they were all but sucking our blood, they squeezed us so hard, and we thought things couldn't worsen.

Then they set to work, closing the inns, driving hobbits from their holes, locking folks up and laying hands on whom they pleased; we found ourselves wishing for the days they'd merely been lazy.


	6. Fetching Reinforcements

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
hopeful  
---|---  
  
_ **Fetching Reinforcements (PG-ish gen drabble)** _

Title: Fetching Reinforcements  
Rating: G/PG  
Character: a Man, at Waymoot, the night of November 2  
Disclaimer: a brief benign avocational fiction.

Four cock-a-whoops, yeh, ridin' ponies. Why didn't we take 'em on our own? Well, they'd swords and mail, likely pinched on the Road. Who'd have thought the little Shirelings would pick up our tricks? Without a doubt, someone needs teaching a lesson; will you come with us to Bywater and set them down again, or not? No, it ain't our doing for letting rebels go free! We were outmatched, I tell you, but we'll set the rats back in their place if you'd shift your lazy bones. Now, lads, let's march! Down to Bywater, and keep hold of this land!


	7. After the Last Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Bywater is won.

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
cheerful  
---|---  
  
_ **After the Last Battle (Merry/Pippin, PG-13, droubble)** _

Happy Valentine's Day! I wrote this for the Kissathon over at [](http://community.livejournal.com/bdotp/profile)[**bdotp**](http://community.livejournal.com/bdotp/).

Title: After the Last Battle  
Author: [](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/profile)[**rubynye**](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/)  
Length: 200 words  
Pairing: Merry/Pippin (bookiverse)  
Rating: PG-13, mostly for violence  
Summary: The Battle of Bywater is won.  
Disclaimer: A brief benign avocational fiction

One last sword-stroke, one last Man vanquished, and hobbits are crying "We won!" behind him. Pippin wipes his sword on a patch of clean grass, takes a deep breath, and turns around. His heartbeat pounds in his veins, and it almost aches to be still when he's been constantly moving and fighting, riding and leading since the day before.

But they've won. The hobbits wave their weapons overhead, embrace each other and cheer; the few surviving Men glare from within a ring of grimly smiling archers as their hands are bound securely.. Where is Merry?

Pippin looks over the battlefield, even as the hobbits around him, Tooks all, take up the cry of victory. He sees Frodo, dusty but unbloodied, and Sam supporting an injured, laughing lad; Pippin's Tooks shout, patting his back, but worry roars in his ears, nearly drowning them out. _Where is Merry?_

There he is, limping a little, his arms dark and sticky to the shoulders, his grin broad and weary. His eyes brighten when he spots Pippin, and Pippin's heart unclenches, his tongue looses, he cries, "Merry, we've won!"

"Yes, Pippin." Merry clasps his shoulders, hands alive and tight, and their mouths meet in a hard, joyful kiss.


	8. Blacksmith from the Brandywine

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
experimental  
---|---  
  
_ **Blacksmith from the Brandywine; Hobbits, PG-rated Drabble** _

The author's notes are longer than the story. *laugh at myself*

Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/) Smiths and Pirates Challenge

Title: Blacksmith from the Brandywine  
Rating: PG for violence ; gen  
Characters: a hobbit, his audience, some mugs of ale; another hobbit told of.  
Warnings: Original characters, character death.  
Disclaimer: This hobbit may be my invention, but hobbits in general and Middle-Earth are not.

There've been some fine brave hobbits, mark my words, as stood up to the Ruffians, and none finer than the Travellers who came back to cast them out. Still, naught taken from such worthies as Mr. Freddy Bolger, nor from present honored company, but the first hobbit to raise hand and head to the Men was a blacksmith lad from Haysend; 'twas he as led out the first rebel band. He fought with his hammer, tapping on knees, and 'tis said he brought down a score of Men, or more, afore they caught him up and hanged him.

  
Note #1: Every so often I toy with the idea of writing a series of drabbles or ficlets set int a frame of Sam and Pippin sitting in the _Green Dragon_ or the _Ivy Bush_ sharing a pint and listening to folks' stories of the past year.

Note #2: There's a song called "The Blacksmith of Brandywine" which can be found (slightly mangled) fairly far down the page here: <http://www.ushistory.org/march/youridea_2001.htm> There are at least two parodies of it entitled "The Hobbit from the Brandywine". I wasn't going to participate in this challenge until I found myself humming the song, and the drabble followed.


	9. Cat, With Mice

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
amused  
---|---  
  
_ **Cat, With Mice (Witch-King, drabble, rated PG)** _

My bosses' eyes are off me for a minute or three, so....

Title: Cat, With Mice  
Characters/Pairing: The Witch-King of Angmar  
Rating: PGish. Nonexplicit.  
Word Count: 100  
Disclaimer: As ever, not mine.  
Written for: [](http://unhobbityhobbit.livejournal.com/profile)[**unhobbityhobbit**](http://unhobbityhobbit.livejournal.com/)  


Deathlessness lends itself well to games, prophecy lends itself even better. When no man can kill one, the potential for amusement is bounded only by their reserves of stubbornness and blood. There are times he allows them to strike first, times he strikes them blind, times he torments them by tormenting the helpless till they fly into entertaining rages and he cuts them down in mid-curse.

He never extends Elves or Dwarves such liberties. Those foes he disarms, even if that means granting swifter, less painful deaths than are his wont. One must be prudent, after all, even in one's games.


	10. Sweet to the Touch

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
exhausted  
---|---  
  
_ **Sweet to the Touch (Ringfic Drabble, PGish)** _

It's been a *week*. Thank you, everyone who has written e back on these. drabbles. I'll hopefully get to reply to you this weekend.

Title: Sweet to the Touch  
Characters/Pairing: Frodo/Ring  
Rating: PGish?  
Word Count: 100  
Disclaimer: Just a brief benign avocational fiction  
Written for: [](http://serai1.livejournal.com/profile)[**serai1**](http://serai1.livejournal.com/)  


 

When Sam is asleep, when Smeagol is away, Frodo tugs the Ring from Its hiding place between his jacket and his heart. When he's curled up, hidden from all covetous eyes, he lays It on his unworthy palm. When no one is near, he runs his fingertip round It, caressing a curve more compelling than a hobbit's bright smile, watching gold shine more purely than the naked stars, listening to a song more lulling than an Elvish croon.

It is evil. He knows this. His task is to destroy It.

And yet he knows he's known nothing so sweet to the touch.


	11. Song of Grond

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
dark  
---|---  
  
_ **Song of Grond (Drabble, PG)** _

Well, I scared everyone off with my last post, I guess, and this is so not going to help. *small laugh at myself* Upcoming attractions: I _finally_ finished the drabbles for the drabble challenge I asked for back in June. So I'll be posting those soon.

Title: Song of Grond  
Word Count: 100  
Rating: PG for implied violence and ickyness  
Characters: Maybe excessively erudite orcs.  
Source/Spoilers: _Return of the King_ movieverse  
Disclaimer: These orcs belong to New Line Cinema; the idea of orcs, Minas Tirith, and all Arda belong to Professor Tolkien.

_Grond._

This city's white walls would sear our eyes if the sun weren't hid by our Lord's blanketing cloud, but the thinned light stains them the shades of pale mud, beckoning the feet of our hard-tramping hordes.

_Grond._

He swings, wolf-headed, thick and rounded, fiery jaws biting deeper at the doors on every pass. We chant and curse with the swinging, our voices pulsing in time with his mighty pound.

_Grond._

Above us the Men shiver, and the reek of their fear whets our hunger. Their females squeak and scream at our missiles's impacts; a little patience, dames, you'll feel our clawed caresses soon enough!

_Grond!_


	12. A Desert Called Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Romans make a desert and call it peace." Calgacus, as reported by Tacitus.

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
pensive  
---|---  
  
_ **A Desert Called Peace (Lobelia, drabble, rated G)** _

For the Mistakes challenge at [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/).

Title: A Desert Called Peace  
Rating: G  
Disclaimer: This character and the works she appears in do not belong to me.  
Author's Note: "The Romans make a desert and call it peace." Calgacus, as reported by Tacitus.

My Lotho said he'd bring peace and prosperity, and how could I not believe my son? When we bought Bag End, when folk ducked their heads to me, I thought we had the right of it. But long days in these Lockholes, with naught to do but think, and even stubborn Lobelia--- I know what they call me--- must admit her mistake. I don't know where I went wrong with him, or where he did, but those Men must be stopped; when I'm released I'll do what I can, to save the Shire, to save my son.

_If_ I'm released...


	13. Doing Accounts

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
better  
---|---  
  
_ **Doing Accounts (Lotho, drabble, G)** _

For [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/)'s Greed challenge. I thought, for a few days, I might not ever write again. I am happily wrong. This isn't so great, but it's *something*.

Title: Doing Accounts  
Character: Lotho Sackville-Baggins  
Source: LOTR trilogy  
Rating: G  
Adult content: Just money being moved.

"There!" Lotho grunted triumphantly, to no one but himself, his mother being long gone to her bed. The sound echoed off the ceiling, off the shuttered window, seemingly off the ledger as it told back the tale of his wealth. Lotho's wise investment of the wizard's largesse was now bearing fruit; at this pace he'd soon own the whole Shire, or at least all of it worth having.

Grinning at his ledger, Lotho sat back in his chair, stretching cramped shoulders and ignoring the small voice that whispered, "when you've bought all the Shire, what shall you have then?"


	14. Shimmergold

_ **Shimmergold (Grima, G rated, drabble)** _

Another for [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/)'s Lust challenge. I'm surprised I haven't seen this character written about for it.

Title: Shimmergold  
Characters/Pairing: Grima  
Rating: G  
Warning: het, desired anyway.  
Disclaimer: a brief benign avocational fiction.

Her hair shimmers gold at the edge of his vision; her face glimmers pale in his dreams. But _her_ eyes are warm only when they light on the King, or upon her meaty kinsmen; he cannot hope to match their deeds of brawn when his skills lie elsewhere, in deftness of mind and tongue their people misprize.

So he hopes and despairs, he dreams and burns, and finally he decides. He knows of no way to turn her eyes to him, but his knowledge is finite; a wizard's is not. Perhaps the master of Orthanc will aid a supplicant?


	15. Keeping Score

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/) "History of Violence" Challenge. Not all violence is physical.

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
creative  
---|---  
  
_ **Two Drabbles for Friday ("Keeping Score" and "A Third Pair")** _

Things calmed enough for me to write a little.

Disclaimer: Middle Earth is the Professor's, and the fullness thereof.

Title: Keeping Score  
Characters/Pairing: Grima Wormtongue and the Royal House of Rohan  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: violent and probably depressing. Death alluded to.

Author's Note: For the [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/) "History of Violence" Challenge. Not all violence is physical.

When Grima first sought Eowyn's hand, she blackened his eye, and Theodred and Eomer beat him top to toe for courting their kinswoman. So when his bones knit and his bruises faded Grima sought the wizard's help and struck a bargain.

Now, with a well-chosen word here and an insinuation there Grima has more deaths to his score than either swaggering prince of Rohan. He stands by the doddering king and watches Theodred set off on a fool's errand with too few, too-weary men; Theodred fumes in vain at his father's blankness and departs despairing, while Grima tallies and smiles.

And, in a very very different tone....

Title: A Third Pair  
Characters/Pairing: Rosie, Sam, Frodo, and some small Gamgees  
Rating: PG at very most.  
Warnings: Sap, broken dishes, AU.  
Author's note: for both the Sharp[e] and AU challenges of the past two weeks, respectively.  
Shoutout: PGY! PGY!  


"We'll bring Mam her tea!" Merry and Pippin promptly collided with a crash of crockery and identical screams. Rosie struggled to rise, but her chair was imprudently soft, and Daisy was even heavier than the babe within her. "Sam!" Rosie called, as she fell back and the boys howled.

Then a gentle hand patted Rosie's shoulder, and Frodo took Daisy as Sam helped Rosie up; shortly, the sharp shards were cleared away and the lads kissed and comforted. "It's ever good to have a third pair of hands about," Rosie said gratefully to Frodo, who kissed Daisy's brow and smiled.


	16. Not Just an Orc

_ **Not Just an Orc (Gen drabble)** _

For [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/)'s Pride challenge. I'm not sure about it, but it's written, at least.

Title: Not Just an Orc  
Characters/Pairing: Grishnakt [Merry and Pippin]  
Rating: G/PG for implied violence  
Warnings: orcs  
Disclaimer: This is a brief benign avocational fiction.

How's Grishnakt know so much, the White Hand's fools ask? They should wonder how they know so little! I use my ears and my wits and my chance; I'll sieze it now, when Ugluk's left the prisoners unguarded. One of them bears Lugburz' lost treasure, and I've a thought or two for what I might do with it myself. I was spawned an orc, but I can do better than slave; even the Great Eye and his Nazgul shall have to reckon with me, when I get that bauble off these little rats and into my hand.


	17. Many Hands Make Light Work

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
thoughtful  
---|---  
  
_ **Many Hands Make Light Work (Tooks &amp; Troubles, hobbit drabble-and-a-half, PG)** _

Continuing on tonight's theme of "I can write anything as long as it's not what I'm supposed to be writing"...

This is for [](http://danachan.livejournal.com/profile)[**danachan**](http://danachan.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hyel.livejournal.com/profile)[**hyel**](http://hyel.livejournal.com/), because of [The Sisters Took](http://www.livejournal.com/community/hobbit_art/106109.html?style=mine). And because Nellie deserves some love.

Title: Many Hands Make Light Work  
Fandom: LOTR  
Rating: PG for violence discussed  
Characters: Pimpernel Took and her family  
Word Count: 150  
Disclaimer: As ever, not mine.  


Hobbits have their ways, and they keep to them as folk do, but it's the oak that breaks in the storm, not the bending willow. Bows will fit a lass's hands as well as a lad's when it comes to a pinch, so while Pearl sharpened arrow-heads and Pervinca teased the lads into practicing, Pimpernel filled a quiver, braided her hair, and tied up her skirts.

As it befel, she was the first to spot the ruffians, and she's never been sure but that her arrow was the one that struck the biggest brute through the eye. She came home again, muddy and worn and exultant, to Pearl's glare and Ferdi's fretting, but her Mam brought her tea and her favorite biscuits, and her Da kissed her cheek and put her on the watch-roll. And so it was that Nell also was the first to see Pippin come riding home.


	18. Child of Gondolin

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
pensive  
---|---  
  
_ **Child of Gondolin (LOTR drabble, PG)** _

Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/) "Surface" challenge. Another Elf-related plotbunny.

Title: Child of Gondolin  
Fandom: LOTR  
Characters: A nameless orc, pensively thinking, if orcs can be pensive.  
Rating: G  
Disclaimer: The world of Middle-Earth and all its denizens are Professor Tolkien's, not mine.   


I began long ago as an Elf-child, reared within white walls; then the Great Dark Lord razed Gondolin, and on His humble thralls worked changes of wondrous agony, hardening my skin and heart, running fire in my veins.

Now Minas Tirith in the morning stirs the Elf buried in me, sings I can be again that soft-faced creature. But I remain as I was made, from armored hide to bandy legs, my charred blood roused in hate against the lies of the light. White walls shall fall again to our Master's will, toppling and drowned in darkness.


	19. The Lining of the World

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
hopeful  
---|---  
  
_ **The Lining of the World (LOTR drabble, PG)** _

I wrote this, based on [this poem](http://sageness.livejournal.com/929555.html) *waves to [](http://sageness.livejournal.com/profile)[**sageness**](http://sageness.livejournal.com/)*, for [](http://danachan.livejournal.com/profile)[**danachan**](http://danachan.livejournal.com/); I intended it for the "North" challenge at [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/), but the references that would have qualified it ended up being edited out.

Title: The Lining of the World  
Fandom: LOTR  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: Blood and death. Not grim, though.  
Disclaimer: Tobold Banks may be mine, but hobbits aren't, nor is the rest of Middle-Earth.  


Tobold Banks lies on bloody grass, eyes open to the sunny sky. Beyond him Captain Merry leads the lads after three Ruffians; beside him two more lie where they fell. Odd and yet not, Toby muses, his life soaking into the soft earth, that six months in those Lockholes didn't kill him but one gut-stab will?

Well, thereby its giver lost his greasy head, one less Ruffian to trouble the Shire, and if Toby might lie here forever, all he loves saved from harm... the sky shimmers open, impossible stars flaring, and his final breath is a laugh of wonder.


	20. Never Lack

  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
tired  
---|---  
  
_ **Two LOTR drabbles, G/PG** _

For the [](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/profile)[**tolkien_weekly**](http://community.livejournal.com/tolkien_weekly/) 'Bounty' challenge. Because I'm contrary and it's springtime, respectively.

Title: Never Lack  
Fandom: LOTR  
Characters: Unnamed Ruffian Dude  
Rating: PG-something?  
Disclaimer: Middle Earth is the Professor's, and the fullness thereof.  


Men may die of lack, easily and painfully as by fire or sword. So I learned when the Straw-heads burned my father's farm; haughty Gondorians judged me a thief, bound me chained and ill-fed in darkness. My best choice among evils was thralldom to Isengard, gaining sunlight and shelter for freedom lost.

Now, sent to the North, I've traded handsomely indeed. The air's sweet, the food plentiful, the Shirelings plump and easily chivvied, the fair ones prettier yet in their fear. Gathering goods and hushing backtalk are easy pleasant tasks, and settled here I'll never lack for all I'd ever desire.

Title: Past All Expectation  
Characters: Merry, Pippin, Sam  
Rating: ever so G  


"Have you ever seen such a springtide?" Hefting his shovel, Merry fondly clapped Sam's shoulder.

"No one has! Not even the oldest gammer!" Pippin bounded over with a rattling wheelbarrow, even swifter on lengthened legs. "The apple-trees quite snowed us in with petals, and look, they're already bowed with setting fruit!"

"My Gaffer says, 'tis past all expectation." Sam nodded, cheeks only a little pinkened. "The Lady's to thank; her gift brought this about."

"Not to mention the sure hands of its wielder," Merry answered with a squeeze, and grinning Pippin gently elbowed Sam so that he smiled helplessly even as he blushed.


	21. 'Drabble of Wrong'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The non-consensual drabble I mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien_Weekly had "Into" for the prompt once. I wrote this for it, but for obvious reasons, never submitted it. I ended up writing "Ekhat's Luck" soon after.
> 
> Warning: Non-consensual and explicit.

S  
P  
O  
I  
L  
E  
R

S  
P  
A  
C  
E

"No," cried the soft little Shire-rat, squirming beneath his hold, but old Jeck had the measure now. One hand round the straining throat, one thump to the round belly, soft cloth rent aside and plump thighs pushed wide, and Jeck sank himself into tight wet heat, thrusting after pleasure to the music of weeping.

This was the best of it, he thought groaning, spilling hot within the shuddering little bit. The food, the ale, the coin were all grand, but the best feature indeed of being in service to the little popinjay Chief was the rutting in its sweetness and plenty.


	22. Frodo after Sauron Gets The Ring Back? AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark and violent and fairly explicit imagery.

S  
P  
O  
I  
L  
E  
R

S  
P  
A  
C  
E

The nails keep him upright.

The clawed hand in his hair pets him in a mockery of a caress, the nails scraping along his scalp, laying oozing scratches to his ears and temples, ripping out hair after hair as they part his curls. They pull sharply on his hair each time his eyelids try to sink, preventing them from veiling his vision from the horrors before it. The Water is foul, brown and stinking, lined with sand-pits and burnt ruins crumbling in the grey rain; a long line of filthy, bleeding hobbits stagger along the path to the Mill that once was a pleasant pub. One falls, and though the orcs whip him and curse him, he does not rise and soon ceases to move. Frodo is close enough to see whose death now also lies on his soul, if he could recognize the hobbit beneath the filth and the starvation, close enough to see the body bounce beneath the heavy orc whips. His eyes, long since wept out, cannot mercifully blur his sight with tears, and at the steady pull of those claws they cannot close.

Above him, his Master sighs, a small sound of contentment. "Such order, in so short a time. Is it not beautiful, my little halfling?" The other hand brushes Frodo's cheek, searing a new burn in its wake, the Ring's molten gold hottest of all. Frodo shudders, dry-eyed, silent with his tongue burned out long ago. His Master's deep chuckle echoes across the ruined river, crackling off the low clouds, and the orcs turn and roar cheers in response as the hobbits scurry, clutching their ears and cowed. And all the while, the claws in Frodo's hair hold him from swooning, from drowning himself, from any escape.


End file.
